As a reader, a writer, and a former academic, I have encountered countless reviews, from various perspectives. I have written reviews for other authors, I have received reviews for my own books, and I have also read many reviews in general. And let me tell you this: most people don’t know how to review a book.
That is, they don’t know how to review a book fairly.
A fair review is useful to the author and other readers alike. Conversely, an unfair review isn’t useful to anyone – and it shouldn’t affect an author (though realistically it often does). In today’s post we’ll take a closer look at what it means to review a novel fairly, and how one can learn to do it. Sneak preview: Leave your personal preferences out of it.
A fair and honest book review cannot be predicated on whether you liked the novel or not(more…)
At the banquet following my doctoral defense, a colleague asked me about my future plans. I mentioned that, among other things, I planned to continue writing fiction. That colleague then said something that made quite an impression on me: “The problem with writing fiction nowadays is that there are more writers than readers”. Those words really resonated with me. I don’t know if this is actually the case – instinctively I would say “it can’t be” – but I’m afraid if not literally true, then it’s pretty damn close. You don’t need me to tell you what that means in terms of supply-and-demand economics.
In the first article written for this blog, I had said this:
I hope I don’t come off as too self-important when I say that people like me […]with the artistry to create and populate fictional worlds and characters (that are still allegorically linked to “reality”), would have been revered masters and teachers in another time and another place.
This is an extreme example of the very same situation, only in reverse. It alludes to times when writing (that is, literacy itself) was not a given. To be able to write and write fiction, to boot, was something akin to witchcraft. I suppose we tend to be mesmerized by things we don’t understand; to me, knitting is like quantum physics.
But nowadays, although there might not necessarily be more writers than readers in a literal sense, the number of people who have the possibility to write something they call fiction, publish it in some way, and make it accessible to a wide – indeed an international – audience has skyrocketed.
Writing was very hard when we didn’t have typewriters. It was hard when we didn’t have computers. Now, anyone can tap on the keys and “write a novel”
Browsing around Goodreads, I noticed something interesting. In a discussion on a famous novel, someone asked: “Is this book good? Or is it boring?” I must admit, I was taken aback quite a bit by this question. I have seen questions like this before, as I have seen questions like “do you like my poem?” or “Is this a good photo, do you like it?”
This is a fundamental error that can lead to some serious misunderstandings. More crucially (and depressingly) it tells me that the average person doesn’t really understand anything about art. Perhaps partly because they were never taught how to. Our “education” systems promote not critical thinking but regurgitation of ideas; not compartmentalized meta-thought (multi-layer thinking about the process of thinking) but repetition. Welcome to the wonderful world of mediocrity…
“Is this book good?” Maybe a silly horse can answer that silly question
